


2,199

by primafacie



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mom!Clarke, season five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:11:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primafacie/pseuds/primafacie
Summary: Based off the final scene of 413, Clarke has given up hope that the people she loves are still alive, and says goodbye to Bellamy on the radio.





	2,199

**Author's Note:**

> So I haven’t written anything in c. 2,199 days but that finale ruined me and this just sort of happened.

Somewhere on earth, 2155

 

Even in the dark moments between sleeping and waking, Clarke knew something was wrong. She woke suddenly as if emerging from icy water, immune to everything except the fear, the rushing in her ears and the pounding of her heart. She tries to draw breath but can’t, can’t hold onto anything long enough to calm herself down. Her head turned searchingly from side to side, but the world was too dark and out of focus. _I’m going to die_ , she thought. Then she felt a soft but solid thing beside her, something small and warm and alive. 

 

“Madi.” Clarke gasped, murmuring the girl’s name, her eyes finally focused on the child sleeping soundly beside her. Taking another gulp of beautiful air, she reached out to stroke Madi’s hair away from her face, suddenly needing to really see her. She looked younger than her years, as she always did in sleep. Her brows were slightly raised, her long dark hair spread out beneath her. She was also smiling, and Clarke wondered what she was dreaming about.

 

Clarke spends a few quiet moments playing with a braid in Madi’s hair. It’s not long before her heart rate slows, and she manages to sits up. 

 

They'd fallen asleep in the rover again. Clarke cranes her neck back and sees that the lights are off, so she either remembered them before they’d fallen asleep or she had killed the battery. It doesn’t matter to her now, but something else does. She just can’t put her finger on what it is. Although fully awake, whatever it was is still tugging away at her, not quite silenced in her mind. 

 

Clarke tugged her sketchbook out from underneath Madi’s small hand, and quietly slipped away so as not to wake her. The rover creaks slightly as she steps out, turning away from the dark part of the wood and towards the ridge, where she sees the light coming over the edge of the world. The navy sky is bleeding into green, and the horizon is already starting to yellow. The day will be beautiful. 

 

As Clarke took her usual place on the rock, she suddenly realised she didn’t want to watch that sunrise. That lump was forming in her throat again. So she looked down at her sketchbook, smiling at the last used page. Madi had attempted to copy Clarke’s portrait of her, her features exaggerated, the lines slightly wonky in places. It was one of Clarke’s favourites. 

 

Clarke tried not to look too hard as she flicked the pages quickly, feeling her hair flutter about her as so many images flashed before her eyes. An infinity symbol, a starry night, dark braids, a tattoo, a cluster of freckles... she snapped the book shut and put it down, replacing the object with the old radio. It was as familiar to her as the rifle perched on her other side, but right then it felt strangely heavy, it’s weight no longer comforting. Grounding, but in the troubled sense of the word.

 

“Here we go again.” Clarke swallowed, and brought the radio to her lips. 

 

Her mouth hung open as her throat clamped shut. 

 

The words didn’t come, and Clarke couldn’t tear her eyes from that horizon. She knew that that glow in the distance had to reach her eventually, but now it felt further away than anything, than anyone. Her whole body trembled, and she thought that if she could just let go she would be able to breathe again, that it would be alright, they would understand...

 

The radio fell to earth with Clarke not far behind, her body sliding down the rock as she collapsed with the weight of her cries. 

 

And suddenly, she knew. As everything inside of her, or whatever she had left, poured itself out, she knew what was wrong. Clarke just didn’t believe anymore. She’d waited six long years, but now it was clear that no one was coming back to her. Her mother, breathing or not, was in the ground beneath her feet. And her friends -

 

Clarke put her head in her hands, and felt the wetness there. _Cold sweat_. 

 

Without looking up, Clarke stretched out a trembling hand, reaching blindly for the radio. Ignoring the pang in her chest, she raised it to speak.

 

“Bellamy.”

 

It wasn’t a call. It wasn’t even a plea. This was sadness.

 

This was goodbye.

 

“Bellamy, I - I’ve made this list.” She doesn’t know why she says it, but suddenly it’s almost easy again, she’s just talking to her best friend. Almost. “It’s uh, scratched onto a rifle.” Suddenly the image of him in her mind, the six years ago version of him, is the funniest thing she’s ever thought, and a laugh bubbles out of her. “Well, now I _know_ you can’t hear me, because if you could, you’d be coming back to take this gun away from me for that.” 

 

Clarke’s smile fades, and she wipes her nose on her sleeve; clears her throat. “I’ve been adding to it every day. It’s a list of names.” She runs her hand over the rifle, not needing to look down at it. She traces her fingers over them: WELLS, FOX, MONROE. “Our people.” DANTE, ROAN, ANYA. “People we knew.” She lingers over a few: FINN, GINA, LEXA. “People we loved.” 

 

“Madi asks about them all the time.” Clarke pauses, trying to remember the last time she’d given Bellamy an update about Madi. Their one-sided conversations had gotten shorter and shorter recently. “Bell, she’s gotten so big. She’s so beautiful and clever. I’m trying to remember everything you told me, all the old stories, but I’m not the best - who was Prometheus again? Never mind, you -” _You can tell her yourself when you see her_. That’s what she had been about to say, she’d said it plenty of times. But now she can’t get the words out from behind her teeth. 

 

“Anyway.” Clarke clears her throat. “My list. You won’t believe it, Bellamy, but I ran out.” Clarke touches MOUNT WEATHER carefully. “I didn’t think I would ever run out of names. I couldn’t remember them all, of course. The gun’s a piece of crap and can’t take much more anyway. _Sorry_ ,” Clarke adds hastily, forcing a smile. A pause, and some static. “Nothing, huh?”

 

She’s not crying anymore. Everything is perfectly still. 

 

“I really don’t want your name on my list, Bellamy.” 

 

A final tear slides down her face as she leans back, her head resting against the stone. “But I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.” All these years she’s wanted to know, _ached_ to know - if she’d just let him finish, what would he have said? 

 

_I guess now I’ll never know_.

 

“I’m so sorry, Bellamy.” And with a breath that it’s either her first, or her last, “ _Goodbye_.”

 

Clarke closes her eyes, fingers clenched around the radio as if to hold on for dear life before letting it go forever.  

 

She's not sure how long she waits. A moment, an hour. Six years. But when the backs of her eyes burn orange she knows it’s time to face the sun rise on the 2,199th day. 

 

But she doesn’t see the sun. Her face, raised directly upwards, sees the fading night sky. And it may be a lingering tear in her eye, or one last ditch effort to hang onto hope, but she sees something. It’s not a ship. 

 

It’s a shooting star. 

 

Slowly, Clarke feels the smile settle on her face, the truest smile in six years. If this is a sign, she’ll take it. 

 

Her face warms as the light finally reaches her, and she closes her eyes again. It’s going to be alright. 

 

She knows what to wish for. 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk to me about the finale on [Tumblr](http://nadiahilker.tumblr.com/).


End file.
